Delicious Fury
by Lizwontcry
Summary: Lady Heather's husband is missing. As the CSIs work on his case, Heather will inflict chaos the way that she does. Heather's constant presence makes life hard for Sara and Grissom, not to mention the rest of the team.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - I started this fic before TGTBTD aired, and then after it aired I gave up on it because, well, I hated that episode. A lot. And also I got pretty much no feedback when I posted it, so I didn't really feel the need to keep going.**

But I like this story and where it was going, so I'm resurrecting it and tweaking it so Grissom isn't so dumb and everyone else isn't so OOC. It's mostly GSR with a twist of Heather. No beta for this one. And also, for the story's sake, there is a professional football team in Las Vegas called the Vipers.

This was my first attempt at a case file, and also I intend for it to get pretty angsty. This is not a fluffy, happy time. But you probably figured that out once you saw Lady Heather's name, right?

So I hope you enjoy and feedback of any kind is always appreciated.

These are the things John Hawthorne was thinking about 5 minutes before he was kidnapped:

_Oh, shit, it's midnight. My wife is going to be so pissed. But there's still game film to go over. The big game is in 3 days. I don't want to disappoint the boys. Maybe I should stop by the store on the way home and get some roses for her. No, she hates roses. Maybe I'll get her some pizza instead. Does she even like pizza anymore? How DO I make this woman happy? Oh, maybe I should mail that check to Habitat for Humanity so they'll have in time for their big party._

Here are the things John Hawthorne was thinking about 5 minutes before he died:

_I am going to die. My wife will never know how madly in love I am with her. It's always been her, does she even know that? The boys, they're going to be so disappointed. Everything they worked for will mean nothing. Oh, God, my wife. What will happen to Heather? What will happen when--_

And then...silence.

24 HOURS LATER

Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle were lying in bed, hands intertwined. On a normal night they would be running very late to work, but somehow they both miraculously had the night off. In a perfect world they could turn their phones off and ignore everything and everyone but each other, but there was always the chance of being called in. They hoped this would not be the case tonight.

Gil had been taking more and more time off work lately, leaving Catherine in charge whenever he could. She welcomed the responsibility, and she didn't question his motives. Of course Catherine knew about him and Sara, she knew everything. She never confronted him about the relationship, but she did give him strange little looks whenever he sat a little too close to Sara. They'd have to have dinner someday and talk about it. He didn't like hiding things from Catherine; they had been friends way too long to keep secrets like that.

"Did you remember to pick up the dry cleaning?" Sara asked Grissom.

"Of course, dear."

"I picked up some tortillas and cheese and stuff at the store, maybe we can make veggie enchiladas later."

"That sounds good. Maybe add a little steak to it."

Sara scoffed.

Neither of them would admit it out loud, but they both enjoyed the subtleties of domestic life. Sara liked coming home to him, walking the dog, doing their laundry. Gil liked getting her clothes from the cleaners. He enjoyed coming home to a house filled with the aromatic smells of something-vegetarian, her in the kitchen slicing onions or cucumbers or whatever healthy thing she was forcing him to eat. Their decision for her to move into his townhouse was an easy one to make. Her moving into his townhouse was hardly seamless, but after a brief adjustment period, they settled into their new cohabitation routines. It was nice, a lot nicer than either of them thought it could be.

Sara didn't want the relationship to go so fast in the beginning. She had spent the last few years getting herself together, trying to move on from the intense feelings she had for her boss, mentor and friend. When he started showing interest and then finally asked her out for coffee one day after shift, she reluctantly agreed. The walls she had built for herself were obvious at first, but as he showed her how serious his feelings were, they started coming down slowly. And after the first kiss, well, all bets were off. Gil Grissom was a fantastic kisser, and she wanted more of that immediately.

After living together just a few weeks, Sara suggested getting a dog. Neither of them had a dog growing up, although they both had a secret desire for one. So one day, they went to the pound and adopted a 50 pound boxer named Hank. Sara tried to talk Grissom out of the name, trying to subtly remind him of her failed dating experience of year's past, but he wanted to name the dog after his favorite baseball player. He won. They hired a neighborhood kid to walk Hank twice a day when they weren't home. It was working out nicely.

Seeing each other nearly 24 hours a day was tough sometimes, but they were figuring it out. At work, they tried to act as normal as possible so as not to turn any heads. They did anyway, and they knew it was a matter of time before the gig was up. They just wanted to wait for a while, that was all.

"I was thinking in a few weeks, we can take a little trip to San Diego or something," Grissom said softly. "Get a hotel, do some shopping, whatever strikes our fancy."

"And maybe...meet Mrs. Grissom?" Sara asked, just as softly.

"Well, yes. Obviously we'd visit my mom. Did I not mention that?"

Sara chuckled. "Yes, you left that little nugget of information out."

"She's been asking about you, you know. If I don't take you to meet her soon, I'm going to be in trouble."

"Well, we don't want that," Sara said. She didn't tell him, but she'd been trying to teach herself sign language in preparation for meeting his mom. It was hard to sneak it in because there wasn't a lot of moments when they weren't together, but she found the time. She wanted to surprise him, show him that she cared about all aspects of his life.

They were quiet again, wrapped up together, not wanting to move. They had so few moments where they didn't have to be anywhere, solve anything, prove anything, and it was nice.

Reveling in the peacefulness, Grissom leaned over and gently kissed Sara's forehead. She grinned in the darkness, and found his mouth. The only sound was lips on lips, and then zippers being unzipped. Just as things were about to get interesting, Grissom's cell phone rang. They both groaned while he fumbled in the dark to find the cursed telephonic device.

"Grissom," he said painfully.

"Gil, it's Jim. I'm sorry, I know it's your night off, but I need you to come in. I'm going to need your whole team on this one."

"Why, what's going on?" Sara looked at him with interest. He shrugged.

"John Hawthorne, the head coach of the Vegas Vipers, is missing. His wife called it in; he's been gone for almost 24 hours. She says that it's virtually impossible for someone like John to be missing for so long without someone seeing him."

"Okay, but it's only 24 hours, right? Shouldn't we wait at least another day?"

"He's very prominent in the community, Gil. Not only is he the coach of an NFL team, but he's very active with charities and stuff like that. The sheriff is even in on this one, too."

"Ah, it's one of those. Okay, I'll be right in,"

"Sorry, pal. Oh, and let Sara know, too. Call her, or nudge her if you prefer."

"Jim--"

"Gotta go, Gil. See you in a few."

Gil stared at his cell phone. Sara said, "What is it?"

He sighed. "Well, Jim knows about us, apparently."

"Well, it's kind of hard to hide things from that man, you know that. I'm surprised he didn't bust us sooner."

"This is getting a little out of hand. Should we change the plan, do you think?"

"I don't think so," Sara said thoughtfully. "We know Catherine knows, or at least suspects. Jim knows. And that's all. Let's stick to the plan until it becomes necessary not to."

Gil nodded. The plan was only to give Catherine the reigns full-time and then cut way back on his hours. They'd tell everyone individually, and Ecklie last. They knew there might be consequences, and they would face them when it became time for that to happen.

"Well, let's get ready. Jim wants you there, too."

They both groaned again and got their kits ready to go. There would be another quiet night again, somewhere, some time, but for tonight, they would work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the feedback from the last chapter, I sincerely appreciate it. I'll post the next couple of chapters this week since I only need to tweak them, and future chapters not long after that. Thanks for reading!**

Grissom made it to the lab 5 minutes before Sara, who was trailing a safe distance behind him in her Prius. It was just another one of the ways they tried to hide the relationship. The two of them were getting very good at lying, which wasn't necessarily what either of them wanted. They weren't ready to make the big reveal yet, though. It wasn't the right time.

As soon as Grissom pulled in, Jim Brass cornered him before he could even get out of the car.

"Gil, there's a few things I didn't tell you on the phone. I didn't want to...interrupt your evening."

Gil scoffed. "What is it, Jim?"

"Well, we're going to have to let the press know about this eventually, and I wanted you to know because it's going to get ugly. John Hawthorne, well, he had some secrets. His wife? She's someone we both happen to know."

"Spit it out, Jim. Just tell me."

"Okay then, it's Lady Heather."

Gil just stared at him, mouth unattractively open wide.

After taking a second to regain his composure, he said, "And I take it this marriage was of...a private nature?"

Jim nodded. "A few close friends and people on the team know he's married, but he tries to keep it as secret as possible. They just got married 5 months ago. Anyway, I think it's safe to say that the man was kinky. How kinky, we're not sure, and we don't particularly want the press to know, either. He has a reputation for being a good, family-oriented guy, and if something like this were to get out...he's toast."

Sara had made her way to the lab and into the conversation. Jim gave her a brief rundown, and Sara inquired as to who the wife was. Jim gave a sideways glance to Gil, who nodded his head slightly. She had to know. And he was going to have a very long night ahead.

"Her name is Heather Kessler. She's been--"

"You mean Lady Heather? She's back again? How terrible, she just lost her daughter and now maybe her husband, too. I bet she's heartbroken."

Grissom tried to contain his surprise. He didn't think Sara knew who Heather was, much less have any sympathy for her. Sara still had the ability to shock him, after all these years. That was something he loved about her. One of many things.

"That's the one," Jim said. "It's not looking good for the husband, either."

Grissom and Sara walked into his office, where Catherine, Nick and Warrick were waiting.

"Okay, Cath, give me an update."

"Well, John Hawthorne was kidnapped outside of his office at Viper Stadium. They do have parking lot surveillance, and the tape is on its way over here now. Heather is waiting for you to talk to her," and here Catherine raised her eyebrows just the slightest bit, "and that's about it for now."

"Is there a ransom note?" Sara asked.

"No, no note. I don't think he was taken for the money. I think this was some kind of revenge--"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Grissom was quick to say. "For now, Sara and Nick, process the kidnapping scene. Warrick, stick around and wait for the tape. You and Archie go over every second of that tape. Catherine, go to--ahem--the dominion and talk to the girls there, see if they have any idea what happened. Um, where's Greg?" He asked, finally noticing the young CSI wasn't in attendance.

"Smash and grab on the strip," Catherine replied. "He'll be back soon."

"Ah. Well, we'll figure something out for him later, I guess." He looked at his team, trying not to rest his eyes on Sara. He really did enjoy looking at her, always had.

"So that's it. Let's get started. Be subtle, don't cause a scene, and let's find this guy."

As the team exited Grissom's office, Sara subtly brushed her fingers along his arm on his way out of the office, and he smiled at her back.

But his smile didn't last long. Heather had asked specifically for him, and this made him nervous. He was bordering on conflict of interest, and he wasn't even entirely sure he should be talking to her at all. Especially since just a year ago, he had to stop her from whipping her daughter's murderer to death. After he caught her whip in mid-air, he called for back up. In those brief minutes before they came to take her and Leon Sneller, covered in blood from the whipping he endured, away, Gil let Heather cry on his shoulder. She sought comfort in his arms, and he gave it to her the best he could. His relationship with Sara was in the beginning stages at that time, and he wasn't sure what he would do if Heather wanted more than comfort. He didn't have to find out, because she was hauled away in a police car soon after. She stared at him with her piercing, heartbroken eyes until the cruiser drove away.

Leon Sneller didn't press any charges, he was so completely terrified of this woman. Gil watched her walk out of the station, completely disheartened, completely broken. And his heart hurt for her. He wanted...something...back then. He wondered if he should offer to take her home. He wondered a lot of things that night. Nothing could make him stop loving Sara, but Gil Grissom couldn't say no to a woman in distress. It was one of his flaws.

He didn't make the offer. They went their separate ways, and now he and Sara were living together, and he still felt like he had this secret in his heart. It was one of the few things he never shared with Sara, and one of the few things he didn't want to.

Grissom slowly walked to the interrogation room where Heather was waiting. He found Jim standing outside the door, waiting for him.

"Jim, Leon Sneller hasn't gotten out of prison, right?"

"No, no, he's in there for a while, no parole. We already checked. He's there, making license plates like the rest of them."

"Okay. Let's get started, then."

Jim sighed. "She just wants you, Gil. And you know her, she's very...persuasive."

"Tell me about it," he muttered, before he walked into what was waiting for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Gil felt Heather's eyes on him as soon as he walked into the room.

"Hello, Heather," he said, looking her in the eye, trying not to show any signs of nervousness at all. He felt like she'd tear him apart if he did.

"Gil, hello." She said coolly.

"So tell me about what happened to...to your husband."

Heather sighed and looked at the table. He saw a certain vulnerability in her face and her actions, not unlike the look she had as she was beating Leon Sneller half to death. He wondered what kind of toll the last year of her life had on her emotional well-being. It couldn't have been good.

"I know it's all very sudden, but after Zoe died, my priorities changed. I called him to let him know what happened--he was Zoe's father, you know."

Gil raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know that."

"Well, it wasn't something he shouted from the rooftops. We were teenagers at the time, and I was just beginning to explore my dominant side. He was a very willing partner and readily took whatever I wanted to give him. Well, lust took me over and in spite of myself, I fell for him. We had sex. A lot of sex. I got pregnant, we talked seriously about where to go from there, and we decided to part ways. I raised her, and when he started making money, he'd send me some. He visited her every month or so. When she got a car, she'd visit him every couple of weeks.

"So, when she died, I called him. He was upset, came to visit me. Before him, I had only taken lovers for many years, never a serious relationship," she said, avoiding his eyes.

Grissom inwardly cringed. He couldn't help but think back to the night that had almost been. They almost made love. They almost took a step towards a journey neither of them expected. It had almost been the night that changed everything forever. But instead they talked, and the next day he said "stop." In another universe, a universe where he'd never met Sara and Heather was an accountant rather than a dominatrix, they could have shared something incredible. He was guessing she knew that, too, which was why she refused to look at him. It stung more than it should have.

"But we were both grief-stricken over Zoe, and we made the decision to get married again. Gil, I know you don't have children so there's no way you can understand why the bond between us was now completely solid. We lost a daughter. We knew how the other felt. And we had a past. So we eloped, Elvis married us at a chapel on the strip, and that was that."

"So in the years that you weren't together, do you know if he continued his interest in the more submissive side of his sexuality?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Heather said, looking at him in a way that made his head hurt. "He visited the dominion frequently. I never worked with him, of course, but I'd have the ladies give me a full report."

"And that wasn't awkward?" Grissom asked.

"You should know as well as I do that sex is a different thing entirely from love. It wasn't awkward, in fact, I was glad he was seeking some kind of outlet for his habits. He was the type of person who wasn't the same if he didn't get his frustrations out of his system."

"I'm sorry to have to ask this, but has he been getting his frustrations out recently?"

Heather sighed deeply.

"That... was something we both were trying to figure out. As I said, my priorities have shifted. I still supervise my girls and their activities, I just don't participate anymore. And I wanted our relationship to be different for both of us. I didn't want to have the dominant/submissive roles anymore, but once you are used to something like that, it's hard to adjust. And if I didn't do it, he'd get it outside of the relationship. So, yes, we participated in that together, but like I said, it was just sex, not love. Our sex life was a completely different part of our marriage relationship, not connected to any kind of feelings we had for each other. But, anyway, what does that have to do with his disappearance?"

"Well, if there was a scorned lover out there, we need to check it out. There wasn't a ransom note, so this is looking like it's personal. Do you have any idea who could have done this?" Grissom asked.

"At first I did think it was for a ransom, maybe somebody out to expose our marriage. We're very careful. He's not ashamed of me, but we both knew I could tarnish his reputation. And for everything he does for this city, everything he does for the boys on the team...it's hard to imagine someone could want to hurt him."

"This will probably get out to the media soon. Maybe within hours. Are you prepared to deal with that?"

Heather nodded, her chestnut hair bobbing up and down with her mascara-stained face. He felt an empathy for her that bothered him. There was something about her that intrigued him from the very first second they met, and it hadn't wore off. It wasn't that he craved her, that he wanted to be with her. It wasn't like that. But he wanted something. He wanted to protect her, maybe, or shelter her. Even the toughest women weren't made of stone, and he could tell she was crumbling.

"Yes, I am prepared for what might happen. If someone uncovers our relationship, that's fine. I just want him back."

Gil had no desire to ask this next question. He looked at his notes. Heather looked at him. The glass in the room was close to shattering from the tension.

"Heather, where were you last night?"

She grinned, but it was not a happy grin, or a sexy grin, or a playful grin. It was a knowing grin, like they'd been through this before. Which they had.

"I left the dominion at 11:00, thinking he'd be home by then. Sometimes he gets wrapped up in his work, but he's always home by one AM. When he didn't get home, I called. I called many times. And then I called it in."

"That's not exactly a solid alibi," Gil said.

"I did not kidnap or harm my husband in any way, Gil. I'm not sure if you think I'm capable of doing such a thing or not, but trust me, I'm not."

"I know. I just have to check all the facts."

She nodded, and the two of them were silent for at least a minute, trying to gauge what the other was thinking and feeling. It was nerve racking.

"Well, thank you, Heather. We're looking at the tapes in and outside the stadium. We'll let you know if you we find anything."

"Thank you."

Gil left, noting the temperature outside of the room felt 20 degrees cooler than inside. It was a relief to be out of her presence, and he wasn't sure why. He was hoping Sara would be nearby, he needed her breath of fresh air. But she and Nick had already taken off for the crime scene.

Gil walked from the interrogation room to the AV Lab, where Archie and Warrick were going over the surveillance tapes from the stadium.

"What did you find?" He asked.

"Nothing good," Warrick said. "He was in his office until midnight. We show him walking through the hall around 12:05. At 12:07, he walked outside and was immediately attacked from the right side. We think there was someone hiding in the bushes, waiting for him to come out. The attacker must have been there a long time, because John Hawthorne never leaves his office at the same time every night. Sometimes it's 8:00, sometimes it's midnight."

"So he was definitely abducted. No ransom note, either. This isn't looking good. Any identifying characteristics?"

Archie zoomed in on the figure abducting John Hawthorne.

"There's one single frame of the attacker where you can make out some features," Archie said. "He's wearing a hat, but I can't tell what kind. He has long hair, but that might be a wig. You can see some facial features here, but nothing really out of the ordinary."

"Hmm. Before we do anything," Grissom said, "I'll check with Nick and Sara to see if they got anything from the crime scene. If not, well, we wanted this to stay out of the media, but I'm thinking that's going to be impossible. We might as well get a sketch artist to come in and sketch this guy's face, get every other detail we can, put out a broadcast, try to get some leads. John Hawthorne--and you'll probably be hearing this over and over for the next few days--was extremely well-respected in the community. Chances are, if someone's seen him, we'll find out about it."

Archie and Warrick nodded. Grissom's cell phone rang, and he stepped out in the hall, satisfied Archie and Warrick would run with it.

"Grissom."

"Hey, it's me," Catherine said.. "I'm at Heather's. There are several women here who know John...intimately. Some of them knew Lady Heather was married to him, some of them were completely shocked. Is Heather coming back here? I want to talk to her, ask her about some of these girls."

Grissom knew Catherine had a rapport with Lady Heather, which would definitely be helpful to them on this case.

"Stick around, see if she shows up some time soon. My bet is she'll want to be somewhere familiar right now. Talk to her, see if you can get anything helpful. She wasn't that talkative with me. Oh, and Catherine? John Hawthorne was kidnapped. It's not looking good for him. I wanted you to know in case Heather asks."

"Okay. see you later."

Catherine snapped her phone closed and snorted in spite of herself. Please, like she didn't know there was a history between Gil and the dominatrix. God, that must have been one awkward scene in the interrogation room. She wondered what Sara thought about the situation. She and Sara needed to sit down and chat one day. Catherine wanted to know some things, and Sara _needed_ to know some things.

Before she could collect her next thought, Lady Heather came bursting through the door. As usual, she looked beautiful and mysterious. But there was something else about her, something Catherine could tell was taking her over. She was heartbroken. Not only that - she was angry.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Tomorrow I'll post the last tweaked chapter and then I'll be posting new chapters as I finish them. Also, any feedback is good feedback! If you hate it, tell me why. If you love it, it never hurts to hear about that, either. :) Thanks, and enjoy. **

Lady Heather did not look happy. Before Catherine could apprehend her, she was collecting all her ladies and barking orders at them. They all nodded eagerly and scattered once they knew what was expected of them.

Before Catherine could say a word, Lady Heather was already by her side.

"Catherine. It's lovely to see you again."

Catherine nodded. "Heather, it's nice to see you, but I'm sorry it's under such circumstances. You know we're doing everything we can."

"Yes, I know. I know you probably have questions for me. Let's go in the kitchen. When I need to get something off my mind, I cook. Trust me when I say I really need to cook right now."

Catherine followed Lady Heather into her huge, dungeon-like kitchen. She was impressed how this area seemed to fit in with the rest of the surroundings. She sat on one of the leather bar stools, watching Heather with interest.

Heather started taking out bowls and food and preparing ingredients. It looked like she was going to make a pasta of some kind. Catherine looked on with interest.

"So, did you find out anything from the girls? I try to keep things under wraps around here, but some of them always manage to figure it out."

"How do you mean?" Catherine asked.

"After my daughter was taken from me, things changed. I wanted to change...everything. But this business has been lucrative for me, and I do have a reputation to maintain, which I worked hard to accomplish. It's easy to be a dominatrix, especially in Vegas. But to be the best, the one everyone looks up to? That's hard. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is...I didn't tell the girls that John and I were married. I moved in with him but I told the girls I got a small apartment because I was feeling a little...crowded. Some of them are smart and figured, well, John wasn't coming here anymore and I wasn't staying anymore, and they put the two together. And some of the girls were a bit attached to John. He's a good tipper, he's very nice to the girls, he never tries to take advantage of them. I think a few of them grew way too attached. It happens."

"So are you saying that you suspect a few of your girls as being in on this kidnapping?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, and I can give you names. I'm sure they probably won't appreciate being investigated. I'm sure this will probably hurt business, but, Catherine, I'm just so tired of maintaining something that doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

Catherine nodded, feeling a burning sorrow for this woman named Heather. She had lost a daughter not even a year ago, and now it was possible she lost her husband. Having lost Eddie a few years ago and her father just a few months ago, she had great empathy for Heather's situation. She always felt a connection to Heather--she had more in common with her than she did with many other women she met. Just because Heather carried a whip didn't mean they were that different, not in the long run.

Heather gave Catherine the names of the girls she suspected might be behind the kidnapping. She mentioned that it was possible none of them had anything to do with it, but she wanted her husband back and if it meant accusing the girls of something as heinous as this, then she'd do what she had to do.

Heather continued to make her pasta. While the noodles were simmering, she put some garlic bread in the oven. She poured herself a glass of wine, offering a glass to Catherine, who wanted some more than anything but said, "No, thanks, I'm on the clock."

"So, Catherine, tell me about your daughter. How old is she now?"

"She's 14 going on 30. Lindsay is...she's rebelling, I think. She lost her dad, and I'm never home, and she's just not doing so well with it. I'm trying to convince her to get some therapy with me, but she's definitely not interested."

"Sounds like you have a lot on your hands," Heather said, sadness deep in her voice.

"Yeah. I came home in the middle of the day, like I usually do, a few days ago, and she was there, sitting on my black leather sofa, smoking. Just watching a soap opera. I didn't even ask her what she was doing, I just turned off the TV, grabbed the cigarette out of her mouth and gave her my best "I'm your mother and I'm pissed" look."

"Well, they all go through that. Before Zoe got it together enough to get to Harvard, she was my little rebel. She used to sneak out, take my car, smoke in the house, bring boys home...just to test me, I told her that she could test me all she wants, but this is her life. And if her life turns out to be a disappointment, then it won't be my fault because I tried. And, Catherine, I really did try. You can try your hardest but sometimes, in the end, it just doesn't seem to matter."

That didn't exactly cheer Catherine up, but she wasn't the one who needed it.

"So tell me more about John," Catherine said when the food was ready. Heather made them both a plate of pasta and garlic bread. Catherine knew it wasn't exactly good detective work to be eating dinner on the job, but it looked good, and she wanted to get more insight into Heather's situation.

"Well, when he's passionate about something, he gets very emotionally involved. This football team was near and dear to his heart. He would do anything for the guys on his team. I mean, they're in the off season right now and he still goes to the office every day to review game film or whatever it is he does up there. They're still a pretty new team, but they did make the playoffs last year. He was on cloud 9, let me tell you. We got married right before the playoffs started, and for a few weeks, every day he'd tell me that yesterday was the best day of his life."

"What happened when they were eliminated out of the playoffs?"

"Well, you know, he got a little depressed. But he got noticeably more depressed as the weeks passed. I had no idea what was going on, he would keep telling me he was fine, just a little despondent over the loss of the playoffs. But something was missing, and the fact that I couldn't figure out what it was drove me crazy."

"Do you think he knew...something...was going to happen to him?" Catherine asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. I just really would like to have him back. Everyone says it, but when Zoe died, a part of me really did die with her. And when John came back into my life, it just all...fit together. I don't want to lose that, Catherine."

"I understand. And, Heather, I promise you, we will do everything we can."

Heather nodded. They finished their meal, talking about the weather and other things that wouldn't illicit much passion. When they were done, Catherine excused herself to find some of the girls Heather put on the list of suspects.

But before she did that, she called home. Her mother answered sleepily, and Catherine told her to put Lindsay on the phone. When her mother protested, saying it was nearly 4 in the morning, Catherine said, "Mom, please, I need to talk to her." So she put Lindsay on the phone.

"What, mom?" Lindsey said, sounding more angry than sleepy.

"Sorry, Lindsey...I just wanted you to know that I love you."

"Love you too, mom," she said, yawning.

"Don't ever forget that, okay?"

"I won't. You're being weird." Lindsay hung up, clearly finished with the conversation. Catherine allowed herself to smile for a brief moment, and then went back to her job.


	5. Chapter 5

Sara Sidle knew more than her boyfriend thought she did.

First of all, she hated the term "boyfriend." They weren't teenagers, were they? But she didn't know what else to call him. Lover? Significant other? Whatever, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were together. What mattered was the trust they built up between each other. What mattered is Gil Grissom still didn't know Sara knew all about this Lady Heather. Come on, they all did. It was a joke around the lab for almost a solid year that when Grissom finally got some, it was from a lady with a whip. Sara always hated the jokes, although she tried to make a few just so no one could detect even the slightest hint of bitterness. Not that she was. Bitter, that is. But it was sort of unsettling.

She never asked him about it, and he never offered any details. When Gil told her this case was about Heather's missing husband, she didn't confess that she knew everything. Well, he wasn't asking her to, he was merely informing her of the case she was to process. But regardless, it would probably be rude to have said, "Oh, yeah, I know her. She was the slut you slept with and then accused of murder therefore making her dump you in cold blood. Then you comforted her when she nearly beat to death the man that murdered her daughter. Oh, after she slept with him, too."

She wasn't without compassion. She actually wished she had the guts to live a life like Heather's. And she couldn't imagine losing a daughter in such a horrific, heartbreaking way. But the way Grissom seemed to lose his mind when Heather was around, and the rumor mill that would always pick up when her name was mentioned...she was a strong woman herself, she knew this, but Heather Kessler made her feel emotions that didn't make her feel very strong.

But she was going to be mature about this. In the past, the mere mention of Heather's name would make her cringe. But now? Now things were different.

She and Grissom had been through so much over the years to let something--or someone--come in between them. She didn't question their love, or the love he had for her. Sure, Grissom was undoubtedly intrigued by Heather, but that didn't mean anything. What Sara and Grissom had was real, and there was no reason to think Heather's presence would change that.

"Sara? Find anything yet?" Nick asked.

Sara yanked herself out of dreamland.

"Not a thing, unfortunately. But, you know what they say, there's always something."

"You mean what Grissom always says," Nick said, grinning at her. Sara was glad it was dark outside because she knew she was blushing.

They sat down on the steps to the stadium to go over what they knew. They didn't come up with much, which they both found to be frustrating. It wasn't normal to not find _anything_ at a crime scene.

"Well, I guess technically this isn't the crime scene," Nick said, looking around. "Wherever the kidnapper is taking him, that will probably be our crime scene, unfortunately. Man, this team was really pulling it together, too. He was a great coach. I never heard anything bad about the guy."

"Well, if he was married to Heather, he's got some secrets. Hopefully Catherine will find something out at the domain," Sara said.

They were both quiet for a moment, assessing the situation.

"Hey, Sara, can I ask you something?" Nick said, looking at the ground.

_Oh boy,_ Sara thought. _Here it comes. He knows. He's going to tell me everybody knows, Ecklie just found out and we're all fired._

"It's me, Nick, of course you can," she said, trying to remain cool.

"We both have Sunday off. Do you maybe want to hang out or something?"

"What, like, have lunch or something? Yeah, that'll be cool," Sara said distractedly.

"No, I mean...can I take you out to dinner? Maybe see a movie?" He looked at her hopefully, and her heart sank.

Sara could not have been more surprised if he just told her he had once been a part of the circus. Nick Stokes, asking her on a date? She was almost so sure that everyone knew about her and Grissom, but apparently not. Where the hell had this come from? Sure, they had a flirtation when she first joined the lab more than 6 years ago, but after a while it became clear it was just a friendly kind of flirtation, just like what she had with Greg.

At one time Sara had pondered her feelings for both Greg and Nick, but when it came down to it, she couldn't find it in herself to be interested...romantically...with either one. Her heart was with Grissom, even when it was clear he couldn't be bothered. When she listened to the speech he gave Dr. Lurie so many years ago about not being able to be with the young woman that offered him everything, she knew he couldn't do it. But then things slowly changed, and they found themselves drifting towards each other again. It was Grissom. Even with Hank, it was still Grissom. It had always been Gil Grissom.

"Oh, um, sorry but I already have plans. Honestly, I'm kind of seeing someone, actually."

"Oh, yeah, that's cool. I just--well, look, let's just kind of pretend neither of us said anything, okay? I think that certainly would be easier for both of us."

Sara couldn't help it--she laughed.

"I can say that's probably not going to happen, but I can also say that I am flattered."

They shared a grin.

"Okay, let's take one last look around. There has to be something out here, right?"

"You would think," Sara said. "But maybe we're just going to have to depend on the sketch artist and any eyewitnesses."

"Yeah, that'll be fun," Nick grumbled. Sara felt bad for shooting him down, but at least she had been honest with him. Well, mostly.

They searched the perimeter one more time. Nick had already checked John's office and found nothing. They were taking his computer back to the lab to check on suspicious emails. There wasn't much left for them to do, which was rare and completely frustrating.

Nick and Sara headed back to the lab. Whenever they rode together, Nick always agreed to put a lid on the country music so Sara wouldn't have to be subjected to it. Instead, they listened to the news. They didn't have to wait long for something interesting.

"John Hawthorne, coach of the new and already revered Vegas Vipers, has gone missing. Details are few at this moment, but as soon as we find out anything, you'll be the first to know. An inside source is saying that John was secretly married, and his wife might have had something to do with his kidnapping. More news in 10 minutes," said the reporter on the radio.

Sara and Nick sighed at the same time.

"That...can't be good for us," Nick said, turning off the radio.

"Well, we knew it was going to hit the media at some point, better now than later, I guess," Sara said.

Sara's cell phone rang, and she saw it was Grissom. She hoped he knew she was with Nick and wouldn't say anything to make her blush. Nick turned down the radio so she could hear.

"Sidle," she said.

"Hey. Did you and Nick find anything?"

"No, we're headed back to the lab now."

"Good. Catherine's coming back, too. We'll see where we are on this case."

"All right, see you soon." _Love you, Bugman,_ she silently added.

Nick didn't turn the radio back on right away. Instead he said, "Man, Grissom's been really, I don't know, different lately, don't you think?"

"He does seem happier," Sara said, because he was. He told her that on a daily, if not hourly basis.

"I think he has a girlfriend. Catherine thinks so, too. Has he told you anything?"

"I don't really know. I guess I haven't thought about it much." Okay, so now she was blatantly lying. She felt bad, but she and Grissom felt a serious need to protect their relationship while they still could, and now was not the time for confessions.

"Oh, well, okay. You two just seem tight lately, I thought maybe he confided in you or something."

She could only just shake her head. The gig was going to be up, and soon. She just wondered who would be the first one to figure it out, and how fast would they tell everyone else.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - This honestly isn't the most exciting of chapters, but I promise I'll make the next one action-packed.**

Also, whoever nominated this for a fanfic award: you are my hero. Thank you muchly.

32 HOURS AFTER ABDUCTION

Back at the lab, Brass brought in five of Heather's ladies for questioning.

"These are the girls Heather wanted us to talk to," Catherine told Brass. "Sara and Greg are checking on their alibis right now."

"The rest of the girls are clean?" Jim asked.

"Clean enough. I'm not worried about them. These girls, well, I've got my doubts."

"Before we talk to them, how do you feel about it?" Jim asked her, knowing that Catherine always had a decent knack for sniffing people out.

"I don't know, honestly. It could go either way. On one hand, every one of them seems to be hiding something," she said. "But on the other, maybe that's just an occupational hazard. They're always hiding something from somebody; always defending themselves to strangers. It could be second nature for them to protect their secrets. We'll just have to do one better."

Brass nodded in agreement and they took off to question the ladies. They passed Grissom in the break room, watching the news with a frown. They paused for a second to hear what the anchor Paula Francis was saying that was causing his frown.

"Insiders say John Hawthorne was secretly married to Heather Kessler, a known dominatrix who runs her own fetish business both online and in the flesh. Sources also say the only suspects are the women who work for Ms. Kessler, but nobody has been arrested for the murder as of yet."

Paula went on to talk about John's philanthropic work with charities and how he was leading the young Vegas Vipers to victory.

"Well, we knew that was going to happen," Jim said. "It was only a matter of time."

"I know, but it still makes me sad to see these things sensationalized for ratings," Gil said. "He was a father, a husband, a good man, and they make it seem like he was a pervert. It's not right."

Well, Jim and Catherine didn't know what to say to that, so they made their escape to speak with the suspects.

The first suspect was Cady Sokolov, a redhead with a strong Russian accent. She did not appreciate having to come in for questioning.

"I do not belong here," Cady told Catherine, Jim, and anyone else who would listen. "I don't even know what is going on. Who is John Hawthorne anyway?"

"You know who he is," Jim said impatiently. "Heather told us that you 'worked' with him often and that the two of you had some kind of fascinating rapport together. So there must have been something pretty memorable about the guy, huh?"

Cady sighed. Catherine and Jim watched her closely.

"Show me a picture. I am bad with names."

"Fair enough," Catherine said, annoyed with this obvious lie. She produced a picture of John, taken at the last Viper game. With his Viper sweatshirt on, headphones in place, playbook in his hands, he looked to be completely in his element. This seemed to trigger something in Cady, and she took a deep breath, and then exhaled. Catherine couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl.

"Ah, Johnny. Yes. He was a good client. Took good care of me. Why would I want to kill him?"

"Maybe because you found out he was married to your employer, Lady Heather?" Jim said somewhat accusingly. Catherine gave him a Look that he knew well. It was the "let the woman handle this one" kind of look. He got the point and let Catherine go with it.

"What Captain Brass meant is that maybe you were a little emotional when you found out Heather and John were involved and you let those emotions take over. Is that what happened, Ms. Sokolov?"

"I did not know they were married," Cady said." I found out the way everyone else did--on the news. He'd been coming around a lot less lately, but I still saw him. I had no idea he was married, he never told me."

"When was the last time he came by?"

"3 days ago," Cady said sadly. "He seemed a little depressed. By the time he left, he was feeling better. I guess Heather wasn't doing her job in the bedroom good enough."

Brass chuckled, in spite of himself. Cady and Catherine both ignored him.

"Interesting," Catherine said. "Do you have a problem with Lady Heather that we should know about?"

"Yes, I do. Heather and I have never really gotten along. And obviously her husband was dissatisfied with her, too, because--"

"Okay, that's enough," Jim interrupted. "We get it, you don't like Heather. That's motive if I've ever heard one. What exactly was your relationship with John Hawthorne?"

"He was my favorite client," Cady said simply. "He took care of me and the other girls. He made us all believe that we were special. John was a very kind man. We all liked him. None of us would have killed him, I assure you."

Jim was starting to get fed up with this woman. "Do you have an alibi for Thursday night?"

"Yes. I was with my girlfriend. We were at a movie." Cady produced a movie stub out of her purse. Jim and Catherine looked at it and nodded.

Jim couldn't resist asking, "Girlfriend, huh?"

"Captain Brass, I do not discriminate when it comes to who I love, men or women. John gave me pleasure in ways my girlfriend isn't capable of, much to her dismay." Cady laughed.

"You mean, you had sex with John? Surely you didn't do that at the domain, seeing how that's illegal and everything."

Cady scoffed. "Of course I didn't have sex with him. I dominated. I took control of him. He was putty in my hands."

"And that's...pleasurable?" Catherine asked hesitantly.

"Far more pleasurable than the actual act of sexual intercourse, Ms. Willows," Cady said, grinning. "With control comes unbelievable pleasures. With John, it was the feeling of losing control that got him off. Our relationship worked nicely. And the way that he treated me...no way did I want him dead."

Jim and Catherine sighed, defeated. They were done with her.

In the next room, Sofia Curtis and Grissom were grilling another suspect and coming up with just as many answers.

Bonnie Barber looked like she just stepped off of a catwalk. With her stiletto heels, she was well over six feet tall. She also had the largest breasts Grissom had ever seen, and he'd lived in Vegas for a long time.

"Look, me and Johnny, we were close, right?" Bonnie said, lighting a cigarette. When Sofia looked at her with disdain, Bonnie sighed and closed her lighter.

"We were close. He liked me better than the other girls. He definitely liked me better than Heather, I can tell you that much."

"And yet Heather was married to him," Sofia pointed out. "What did you think about that when you found out?"

"I was amazed she got him to settle down, honestly," Bonnie said. "He was a player, every girl knew that. Except he liked me best. He told me that all the time."

Sofia suppressed the urge to say something rude. Instead, she said, "When did you find out about the marriage?"

"Technically, a few hours ago on the radio. But I suspected. He wasn't stopping by as much, and Heather wasn't participating like she used to. I knew Zoë was their kid, too. We all know more than they think we know. We definitely use that to our advantage."

"How did you know about Zoë?" Grissom asked. It was the first question he asked in the interrogation, and it startled Sofia and Bonnie.

"I went to high school with her. We were good friends, actually. That's how I found out about Heather and her business. I was real upset when Zoë died. We were pretty close for a while, before she went off to Harvard, anyway."

"Did anyone else know about Zoë?" Sofia asked.

"No. No, she didn't want anyone else to know."

"Who, Zoë or Heather?"

"Both, actually," Bonnie said, looking bored. "I promised them. And even though I disagree with Heather a lot, and even though I don't really like her that much, I was okay with keeping her secret. She does take care of us, you know. She treats us really well. It's just that..."

"What?" Grissom prodded.

"Heather changed after Zoë died. She was a lot more quiet, and a lot more bitchy. She'd always been uptight, but she'd never been as bossy and just...mean. It was actually kind of strange. And it definitely got old after a while. A lot of us girls are talking about leaving."

"And why haven't you left yet?" Grissom asked.

"It would be kind of rude to leave her high and dry like that," Bonnie said, failing to elaborate.

Sofia looked at Grissom. He shrugged. This wasn't going anywhere.

"Where were you 2 nights ago, Ms. Barber?"

"I was at the domain, where I am every night. At least 10 girls can vouch for me. I was there all night. Check the cameras."

"We will," Sofia said, not looking forward to viewing that particular footage.

* * *

2 hours later, the team met to talk about the suspects.

"We've got nothing," Catherine said, looking over her notes. "Cady was at a movie, Shawna was out of town, and Tanya was at her daughter's softball game."

"We didn't come up with anything either," Grissom said. "Bonnie was at the domain, and so was Allie."

"We verified everyone's alibi," Sara said. "These girls obviously weren't the ones who pulled the trigger, but they might have paid someone else to do it. It could be the work of a pro."

"It's possible," Grissom said. "We're back at square one. We have zero evidence except the security tape. Warrick, Greg, you guys look at that tape again. Look closely, frame by frame, every little detail. Catherine and Nick, dig a little deeper into John's last days. Look at credit card receipts, emails, anything you can find. Sara and I are going to Heather's house to see if we can find anything there."

Sara gave him a tiny little grin. She knew he wanted a little alone time with her, and she appreciated the gesture. Nobody else seemed to catch on, because they all scattered without another word.

Sara followed him back to his office. They got their kits ready to go, and before they headed out to Heather's house, they shared a tiny moment. Before Grissom opened the door to his office, he stopped short. Sara ran into him. They enjoyed the closeness, wrapping themselves up in each other's air, and then managed to pull apart with some difficulty and effort. There would be a time for closeness later, but for now, more work.

What neither of them noticed was that the blinds in the office were pulled up, and Lady Heather just happened to be walking by, having been called in for more questioning. She watched this accidental but on purpose embrace, and took note of it. It was a fascinating development, but she would not question it now. There would be a much better time for that, she was absolutely sure.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - Thanks in advance for any feedback you may have. I'm doing this one without a beta, so if you see anything crazy or have any kind of concrit, I'll take it!**

* * *

Sara knew a few details about Grissom's past; little things he wasn't very keen on sharing but somehow she got out of him anyway. She knew that his first girlfriend was someone he met in his Biology class his freshman year in high school. Brandy took his virginity in a rather awkward session when they were 16, and Grissom didn't feel like going through that again, not for a long time. He gave up on girls for a while after that, instead focusing on school and getting into college. At UCLA, he met Claudia. Claudia was painfully shy but very beautiful. Sara knew that for a fact because he still had a cheesy picture of the two of them posing in front of the Hollywood sign in LA. They dated almost until the very end of their senior year, until she started putting rather heavy demands on their relationship. This did not sit well with Grissom, and he found himself alone again.

"Claudia was special," he had told Sara when she dragged the conversation out of him one night. "She was into a lot of the same stuff I was. We would study together a lot. We watched old movies. We cooked and drank wine. But that's all I wanted it to be. I didn't want to talk about the future, or our relationship, or the future of our relationship."

"Were you sad when she left?" Sara asked.

"Yes, I was. But not in a tangible way. I didn't get depressed and stop going to class or go home and eat ice cream. It was just little thoughts; little things during the day that would make me think of her and pause for a moment. But then it was over. No big deal."

Sara wondered about that 'big deal.' She wondered if she could ever be a big deal in his life. She obviously didn't add that to the conversation, though.

The last serious relationship had been with Angelica, a 19 year old beauty from France. Grissom, 26 at the time, met her during his stint as an LA coroner. Her sister had been murdered, and somehow they struck a friendship, and shortly after, a relationship after she IDed the body.

They were together for a year and a half, and whenever her name came up in conversation (which obviously wasn't much), Sara was intrigued by this mysterious woman who stole Grissom's heart. There was obviously an age difference, which was interesting. But what was far more interesting to her was the whole "woman in peril" vibe that Grissom picked up on. Sara was starting to see a pattern here, and she didn't think she liked it.

After Angelica, there were a few blind dates that didn't work out. There was the cute lab tech that wasn't a big fan of Pink Floyd. There was Terri Miller, who probably could have been the one if there weren't so many factors involved to make that impossible. And then there was Heather, who he never talked about and who she never asked about.

Sara wasn't jealous--not of Claudia or Angelica or Terri or...Heather. She preferred to think she was more curious. And she liked to believe that Gil loved her, and she wasn't the kind of girl who always questioned those things in a relationship. But he tied her up in knots. He made her head spin. Their relationship was a whole new set of rules that she didn't know if she'd ever learn. The reappearance of Heather Kessler made her uncomfortable in a way that she didn't understand, and didn't like. What made her even more uncomfortable was how it seemed like Grissom wanted to avoid talking about Heather or at least his so-called relationship with her. But the elephant was getting bigger, and someone was going to have to talk about it. Soon. But not yet.

"Is there anything specific we're looking for here?" Sara asked when they were on the way to Heather's house in Summerlin.

"Not really, just anything that will give us any kind of clue about anything. You know as well as I do that we have nothing. I know Heather's anxious for some kind of news, so..."

"Right," she said. "I can't imagine how she's feeling right now."

"Hmm," Grissom said. "She's certainly had to deal with enough the past couple of years. I hope for her sake John is still alive, but it's not looking good."

Sara nodded, and they shared a comfortable silence for the rest of the short trip. At a red light, Grissom reached over the console and held her hand. She smiled at her boyfriend, her lover, her mentor...her Grissom.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Heather and John's house in Summerlin. As all houses in Summerlin, this house was more like a mansion. Sara had been out to Summerlin many times and was never impressed with the sprawling neighborhoods, but even she could admit it was pretty amazing.

"Interesting house for a couple who was trying to stay nondescript," Sara said as they walked in.

"That's true. I wonder what made them choose this house," Grissom said, shining his flashlight through the massive rooms. "It does seem more likely that someone from the neighborhood could have spotted the two of them together and taken advantage of it. But Brass said he talked to almost everyone on this block and none of them knew who lived here, so they must have been pretty discrete."

Sara wasn't sure, but she probably wouldn't use "Heather" and "discrete" in the same sentence. But that was probably just her curiosity (and not her jealousy) talking.

* * *

"You take the second floor, I'll take the first," Grissom said. Sara nodded. Out of habit, he leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. She grinned for a second, and then they parted ways. She always grinned like that when he kissed her, every single time. Sometimes he kissed her just to get that grin. It was a good one.

But as soon as he started shining his flashlight in every little nook and cranny, his thoughts were back to Heather. He didn't understand why she lived in this house. It had to have at least 6 bedrooms. Why was that necessary for just the two of them? That question was only to distract himself, because the real question was--why was he even there in the first place? He was dangerously close to conflict of interest here. No, they never had a relationship, but at one point they were awfully close to one. He didn't know why he brought Sara of all people to investigate the house with him. Maybe it was to clear his conscience. He could never be too sure of these things.

He looked through the kitchen carefully. All the kitchen utensils were in the right place. He looked through the trash and found nothing suspicious. Everything in the refrigerator looked fresh; nothing was expired. It was much of the same throughout the rest of the house. Everything seemed to be in the correct order. Heather and John were apparently very tidy people. He also noticed that for two people with a very expensive and extravagant house, there wasn't much attention paid to the furniture. There was one large black leather sectional in the living room, but nothing else. The bedroom had only a bed and two matching dressers. Grissom figured the two of them must not spend a lot of time at home.

But then his mind was changed when he stepped into what he thought was an empty room next to the master bedroom. He knew enough about Heather's lifestyle to know that this was a room made for a dominatrix. If he didn't know any better, and he was starting to think he didn't, he'd call this room a dungeon. There were enough paddles, whips, gags, blindfolds, shackles, handcuffs, and...other assorted things he couldn't quite identify to outfit 10 different dominatrixes. Heather did say that she and John still participated in the lifestyle, but Grissom didn't know she had a whole room devoted to it. He wasn't sure what to think about that.

After carefully inspecting all the equipment, testing a few things for blood and not finding any, and shining his flashlight everywhere it could fit, he moved on to the guest bathroom. At first glance, nothing was out of place and it looked just like all the other rooms--perfect. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw something in the trash can. Upon further inspection, he realized he was looking at a pregnancy test. A positive one. _Now that's a new development._ He wondered why Heather didn't disclose that information. He also felt tender empathy for a woman who might have lost the father of her unborn baby, after having just lost the daughter they already shared. _How much loss can one person suffer,_ he wondered, not for the first time.

Bagging the pregnancy test, he moved on to the next room. Grissom was sure he'd find more of the same but still checked every corner for something he could be missing. When he was almost done with the first floor, he heard Sara yell, "Griss! Get up here, please. There's something you need to see."

Grissom ran upstairs following Sara's voice. He found her in another guest bedroom.

"You won't even believe what I found down there--" he started, and then noticed the look on her face.

"What? What did you find?"

She pointed to a large oak dresser by the bed. The top drawer was open; obviously she'd gone through it. Grissom hesitantly moved towards the drawers, wondering and dreading what he was going to find. After finding the dungeon in the middle of the house, he knew it could be anything.

What he found was...himself. There were pictures taken from the newspaper, along with the articles he was mentioned in. There were papers that he wrote in college that Heather somehow got her hands on. There were videotapes labeled "Grissom, press conference, 10/12/99." It was like he googled himself and everything he found was in that drawer.

"I--Sara, I don't know. I really just don't know."

Sara sat on the bed, looking a little dazed. Technically he should have warned her not to sit on the bed, but they were beyond that now. He tried again.

"I had no idea this was here, and I don't understand--"

"Griss, come on. Just tell me about her. I can't do this anymore. We both know something happened, and that's fine. But the way you avoid telling me about her--"

"It was nothing. It _is_ nothing. There's no reason--"

"_Gil!_ Really, stop it! You can tell me, I'm a big girl. There's a reason why Heather has your whole life story in this drawer. Tell me one thing first, so I can know if I need to call Brass right now and get you excused from this case--did you sleep with her?"

"No. I never slept with her. I spent the night with her at the dominion once, and it ended badly. All we did is talk, and then before I left, I accused her of murder. That's it. I don't know why she has this drawer."

Sara looked at him closely, and he swallowed. Why did he feel so nervous? He had nothing to hide.

Finally, she asked, "What aren't you telling me?" He could tell she didn't want to ask that question. And he didn't want to answer it.

"I'm not hiding anything, Sara. We had a nice evening once upon a time. There was something interesting there, but neither of us took it any further."

Sara sighed. "I'm not this girl, Griss. I'm not this girl, and it makes me crazy that I ask you questions like this. I trust you, you know I do, but this drawer full of crazy makes me wonder."

Grissom nodded and said, "It makes me wonder, too. If I knew why she had it, I'd tell you. But I don't."

They regarded each other for a moment, not sure what to say next. Finally, Sara spoke, because if she didn't, she was going to scream.

"What did you find downstairs?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, first of all, a dungeon. Second, a positive pregnancy test. Two things you don't see together all that often."

Sara smirked.

"Interesting. Well, I'll keep looking. I just thought you should know about the drawer."

He took her hand before he went back upstairs. For a slight second, she cringed. And when he gave her a kiss, she didn't grin. Something was different now when nothing should have been different.

"Sara--" Grissom was thankfully interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He took it out of his pocket and saw it was Brass calling.

"What do you have, Jim?"

Sara watched Grissom's expression as Brass filled him in. She studied his face and wondered what she was missing here, and why he wouldn't just tell her. So they spent the night together and nothing happened, big deal. But there was something else, and she was starting to think that maybe he _couldn't_ tell her what it was. It was a connection. It was something he couldn't describe because it didn't allow for words. And she thought that was what hurt most of all.

"Okay, thanks, Jim. We'll get back right away." He snapped his phone shut with authority. "Well, they just found John Hawthorne. He's dead. We're now looking for a killer."


	8. Chapter 8

**I know, I know. I bring no good excuse, just the promise that I will try to update this sooner, 'cause it's a good story and deserves to be finished.**

* * *

Sara watched through the glass as Gil gave Heather the tragic news. Even from a distance, even from a sheath of glass between them, and even though she felt with everything in her being that he loved her, Sara knew Grissom wanted to comfort Heather. He wanted to comfort Heather like he did Sara when she finally broke down and told him about her parents and her past. Maybe this was something she was going to have to get used to--Gil's need to save women in distress.

If she wanted to psychoanalyze it, perhaps this stemmed from comforting his mother when his dad died so unexpectedly and suddenly. But she didn't want to do that. No, what she wanted was to turn away and not watch what was happening in that room. What she wanted was to feel sympathy and compassion for a woman who just lost her husband, and with a baby on the way to make everything just a little more tragic. Sara did not want to feel this jealousy and intimidation for the woman who now had the full attention of Gil Grissom, Love of Sara's Life. What, were they in high school? If Grissom was able to bring comfort to Heather in her time of need, who was she to get in the way of that? Yet Sara could not help what she felt, which inevitably made her feel even worse.

"Why aren't you in there?" Greg asked, appearing out of thin air. Sara didn't even know he'd been standing there.

"Well, Heather asked for him," she said. "She didn't ask for me."

"Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"No. She trusts him, I suppose."

"I think she does a little more than trust him," Greg said mischievously. "I heard that a few years ago, he spent--"

"Greg, that is none of your business. It's none of my business. It's nobody's business, okay? And haven't you been warned about spreading gossip around the lab? Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Instead of looking at Greg's confused and hurt face, Sara left in a hurry. Greg was her friend. Sometimes, when nobody else was around, they'd go outside and share a cigarette and some secrets. It was not normal for her to act like that with him.

Out in the hall, she sighed, wondering how this case, of all the cases, was bringing out the worst side of herself. She didn't like it.

* * *

"Please, Gil, tell me what happened," Heather said. "I want to know where you found him. I want to know every detail."

"Didn't Jim tell you these things?" Gil asked nervously.

"No. He was going to, but I told him I wanted to hear it from you. Please, Gil. I have to know."

"Heather...you don't HAVE to know. Do you really think it will help you sleep at night to know what happened to John?"

"Yes," she said simply.

Gil took a deep breath, wondering why in the world she would want this information.

"We don't have all the results in yet, but we think he was abducted from the stadium and taken to maybe a warehouse or an empty house somewhere. He was dumped in the back alley of the Tangiers. There are signs of torture, including hair pulling and burn marks all over his body. Judging from the Mees' lines under his fingernails, he was then poisoned with a heavy metal like arsenic or thallium. And, well, he was also shot at close range to the back of the head."

Heather nodded, composed as always. Gil wondered how she had it in her to remain so strong.

"I understand," she said. "Tell me, Gil, isn't heavy metal poisoning the chosen method of women who kill?"

"Yes, it is, actually," he said. "Because of the passivity." He took a second to remember the case a few years ago of the two women who poisoned their husbands--as a team, it appeared. He remembered how Sara was angry when they weren't able to convict the women of the murders. She was so passionate, his Sara.

"So I imagine that would narrow the list of suspects quite significantly," Heather said cooly.

Grissom wasn't sure what to tell her.

"Yes, in theory. But we aren't very far with our list of suspects yet, I'm sorry to say. And, well, you know...Heather, we can't really discuss that with you until we know for sure. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. In theory." She looked at him, a strong, determined woman in a broken down shell. There were so many things he wanted to ask her; so many things he wanted to tell her. But yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel these things without guilt, much less say them.

When Heather determined that was the end of the conversation, she gathered her things and made her exit, elegant and poised as usual. Only people who knew her well could tell that under that exterior, she was grieving. She wouldn't fall apart, not in public. He had a sudden urge to be there when she did ultimately break down. This was not a feeling he enjoyed.

"Heather..." he said softly before the door closed, with her behind it.

"Yes, Gil?"

There was so much he wanted to ask. He wanted to know if she had anybody to go home to; anybody to listen and comfort her as she cried. He wanted to ask her about the drawer full of, well, him, that he and Sara found at her house. He wanted to tell her he knew about the pregnancy.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We'll let you know about possible suspects."

"Thank you, Gil," she said, and looked at him for a few seconds too long. In those seconds, he knew that he was hiding nothing. She could see right through him, and they both knew it. He just wished she knew that he had his reasons. For everything.

Grissom composed himself before he left the room. He knew Sara had been watching even if she didn't know he knew. It was almost like the Vincent Lurie investigation three years before, expect it wasn't at all like that. 3 years ago he had been a coward. He'd been terrified of his feelings for Sara. Somehow he overcame that fear and now he was a better man for it. Sara made him a better man. Through her love for him; through the strength and devotion and everything else she stood for, she made him want to be a better man. But yet, he was still a coward. His heart was broken for Heather. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. Maybe he should have himself excused from the case. Maybe it would be best for everyone. But he wanted to stay. He wanted to be the one that found the killer. He wanted to be the hero. Was that so wrong?

* * *

Less than 24 hours later, Catherine Willows and Jim Brass were sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels at Catherine's townhouse. They did this about once a month - it was an evening full of drunken sexual tension, rampant and vicious workplace gossip, and usually there was also a well done steak involved. They both looked forward to these random, somewhat secretive nights where nothing would ever be accomplished and hopefully they stayed just sober enough not to consummate their interesting--but platonic--friendship.

"You make a hell of a mashed potato," Jim told Catherine, slathering butter onto a monstrous pile of potatoes. "I mean, seriously, where do they teach you to make potatoes like this?"

"At the Retired Poledancer's Academy," Catherine said. They both laughed, even though it wasn't that funny.

"No, really, Lindsey loves these things. Sometimes it would be the only thing I could do to make her happy after her father died."

"And what did you do for yourself when your father died? I mean...are you handling it?"

"I'm handling it," she said. "We just didn't have that much time together, and I spent most of that time accusing him of one crime after another. I just wish things could have been different, Jim. But hey, I'm from Vegas. My mom was a showgirl and my dad ran casinos. You get the cards that are dealt, so to speak."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's true."

For a moment, the two of them were silent as they ate their steak and potatoes. Catherine prepared a spoonful of potatoes when she paused and said, "Can you believe what's happening with Lady Heather? Oh, Jim, I can't tell you how much sympathy I have for that woman. I consider her a friend, and it pains me to think what she's going through right now."

"I know. It's tragic, it really is. But I know someone who may end up being the one to comfort her."

"Who?" Catherine asked, always ready and willing to play the gossip game with Jim. The two of them were like schoolgirls sometimes.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed the way Grissom gets around that woman. From the very first day he met her 5 years ago, she's had some kind of spell on him."

"Oh, well, of course I noticed. The only question is, to what extent?"

Brass looked sideways at Catherine, wondering if she was saying what he thought she was saying.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...if he comforted her during this time; if he went to her house and made sure she was okay...wouldn't he risk losing something else important to him?"

She _was_ saying what he thought she was saying!

"Do you know something?" He asked, grinning ever so slightly.

"Do _you_ know something?"

"Of course I do. I have for a long time."

"Me, too! Well, not that long. And it's only been a suspicion. You know for sure?" Catherine sounded as excited as he felt.

"I think I do, yes."

Jim and Catherine had been getting together for dinner for nearly 3 years, and almost every time they did, the conversation would always fall back to Grissom and Sara. Why didn't Grissom get his head out of his ass? Why didn't Sara just move on with her life? Why didn't they just _do it_ already? But for the past year or so, that conversation was dying down. Was it because they just didn't care anymore? Or was it because they knew something and didn't want to let the cat out of the bag? They were discovering a whole new world, it seemed.

"Jim...you don't think Gil would risk his, um, relationship to be with Heather right now, do you? I'm sure he feels like he has some obligation to her, but he doesn't, right?"

"No, he doesn't. Maybe Heather makes him think that he does, but she has friends. She has people. She does not need Gil Grissom. But I think she wants him to want her for some reason."

"That's a frightening thought," Catherine said. Jim nodded.

The two of them finished their meal and continued gossiping and laughing, but both of them had a slight feeling of unrest. Both of them knew something was going to happen, and it probably wasn't going to be good.  


* * *

  
As Brass and Catherine shared a meal together, Grissom and Sara were also sharing one. But there was no gossip. There was no laughter. There was only guilt-ridden smiles and tense small talk. They weren't used to this. They made a promise to each other when they first started this relationship that they were going to be honest with each other, no matter what the cost.

"You can go if you want to," Sara finally said, after realizing she couldn't eat another bite of her eggplant parmigiana without saying something. "You can go to Heather's. Do what you have to do."

Grissom was silent for what seemed like decades.

"Will you be here when I get back?" He asked, avoiding her eyes.

"Depends on what you have to do."

"Sara, I..."

"Gil, I trust you."

"Do you really?"

"Of course I do."

Gil knew he should say something else, something meaningful. But the words weren't coming. He knew in his heart that he was doing irreparable damage to his relationship with Sara, and if he didn't do something immediately, he may actually lose her. Still, he did not say anything. He just didn't have it in him.

Sara surprised both of them by breaking the silence.

"Like I told you before, I'm not this girl. I'm not the jealous, insecure girl with low self-esteem that you have to coddle. I'm not. But Gil, you aren't giving me much to go on here. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do. And I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

So he said nothing. Neither of them moved. They stared at their plates, not knowing what else to say. Because there was nothing else to say. There was only something to do, and they both knew what that was.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - I suck. But I SWEAR that I'm already writing the next chapter and it'll be done by tomorrow night, maybe Tuesday at the latest. We're in the home stretch, I swear.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and being patient. And rock on. **

* * *

While Catherine and Jim were enjoying dinner and Sara and Gil were not enjoying dinner, Nick and Warrick were at the lab, going through any shred of evidence they had collected over the past few days. Both of them were frustrated by the lack of evidence found in the case. Both of them were also intrigued by the dynamics and complexity of what was going on behind the scenes.

Currently they were in the garage, processing Heather's BMW for anything remotely suspicious. Nick was going through the trunk and Warrick was fingerprinting the dashboard. And, like most of their colleagues, they were discussing the case at hand.

"Do you have any theories on what happened?" Warrick asked Nick.

"I don't know, man...I have thoughts on the matter, but I'm pretty sure nobody wants to hear them."

"Come on, Nick. It's me. What are you thinking about this one?"

Nick paused his trunk search and looked lost in thought. Warrick was always amused by the way his good friend's brain worked. This was no exception.

"I think Heather did it, 'Rick. I think she wasn't used to having someone around 24/7 and wanted to have her freedom back. And, well, you know....no, never mind."

"Don't 'never mind' me, Nick. What were you going to say?"

"She's in a freaky business, man. Those people do weird things. I just wouldn't put it past her, that's all I'm saying."

Warrick chuckled, amazed at his friend's naivety. Even though Nick had been in Vegas for a long, long time, he still maintained his country boy innocence. It was endearing, if not somewhat annoying and small minded.

"I don't think it was her. I think it was one of the women who works for her. John was a regular at the dominion and from what Brass says, all the girls seemed to believe he was into them more than just professionally. I think one of them was literally crazy with jealousy."

"Well, I guess we'll see, huh?" Nick said, turning on his flashlight.

"We will," Warrick said, as he thought to himself, _if we're lucky._

Ten minutes later, Nick let out a slow whistle. "Jackpot," he said with a grin. "Look."

Warrick stepped out from the front seat and looked at what Nick was holding. In his hands was a suspicious-looking wooden box. It didn't have a lock or anything holding it together; just a lid that was begging to be opened.

"Whoa...where did you find that?"

"There was a 'secret' compartment in the trunk. Do you want the honors, or should I?"

"Be my guest."

Nick opened it easily and looked through it like a boy on Christmas day. And it might as well have been Christmas, because what they found could only be classified as gifts.

They found vials of something they couldn't identify, but both figured it was the arsenic that poisoned John Hawthorne. They found one pair of leather gloves, a bloody sweatshirt, and then there it was, the smoking gun - literally.

"Holy shit," Warrick said.

"Yeah," Nick said, getting the cell phone out of his pocket. "It looks like this mystery is solved."

"Now wait a minute, man. Do you really think Heather would not only kill her husband, knowing she was pregnant with his child, and then leave the evidence in her car where she knew we'd find it? Come on, Nick. Heather Kessler is a lot of things, but she's not stupid."

"How do we know that? The woman slept with the man who killed her daughter. Maybe she's crazy with grief or something. And anyway, that's not up to us to decide," Nick said. "I'm calling Brass."

Warrick sighed and listened as Nick called in the cavalry.

* * *

"What's the hold up, Jim?" Nick asked 30 minutes later. Brass was sitting in the break room, drinking a cup of coffee, looking bored.

"We're waiting on a warrant to search Heather's house. Again."

"What the hell? Jim, what about the evidence we just found? What about the fact that Grissom and Sara already searched the house from top to bottom?"

Brass shrugged. "Heather has a lot of friends, Nick. Friends who kept her out of trouble last year after she almost beat Leon Sneller to death. Friends who will do what they can to keep her out of trouble now. I think there's a lot of law enforcement officials in this town afraid of losing their reputation. I don't get it myself, but then again I've never been on the receiving end of her whip."

As Nick tried to get _that_ image of his head as quickly as possible, he asked, "Hey, have you seen Grissom? Or Sara, for that matter?"

"I think it's their night off. But Grissom would probably want to know what's going on. I'll call him."

"Well, what do we do now?" Nick asked, too anxious for his own good.

"Relax, Nick. What are you so worked up about, anyway?"

"I don't know! This woman, she pushes my buttons, and not in a good way."

"Well, go get a snack or something. Jesus. I'll let you know when we get the warrant."

Brass sighed as Nick left. This call was not something Grissom was going to like. Jim didn't know all there was to know about Gil Grissom, but he did know that Gil had some kind of unusual and unfortunate attraction to Heather Kessler. He just hoped that wouldn't get in the way of the investigation. He also had a soft spot in his heart for Sara Sidle, and he did not want to see her hurt by Gil's unusual proclivities.

Before he could make the call, Greg came by to give him some more bad news.

"Jim, glad I found you. I was doing some digging because, well, I'm bored, and look what I found."

Brass took a look. What he found was hardly surprising, given the turn this case was taking, but still somewhat disappointing.

"So Heather gets everything, huh? And John Hawthorne had a huge, mega life insurance policy. Plus the house and everything else." Again, he sighed.

"That's motive," Greg pointed out helpfully.

"You can say that again."

Jim knew Heather was different and maybe a little odd, but even though he ended up at her dominion more times than what was normal due to suspicious circumstances, he still didn't think she was capable of murder. But he knew his next call needed to be Grissom, and he didn't like it.

* * *

Sara was doing the dishes.

Sara was doing the dishes and trying hard not to have a complete and total breakdown.

A lot of things had happened in the story of her life, and to say that many of those things were unpleasant was an understatement. But this situation--the situation where the man she loved, the man she craved, the man she deserved, was about to throw away everything they stood for to run into the arms of some strange dungeon mistress--that situation was not something she was prepared to deal with. And she had dealt with a lot of crap over the years.

Once again, she reassured herself that Gil Grissom loved her. This was a fact, one she knew with all her heart. And yet she knew, she KNEW, when she turned around after the last dish was clean and dry, Grissom would not be there. He would be doing what he needed to do, which did not include her. That's why she took extra time with each dish, and as she pushed a sponge around all the glasses and the plates and silverware, she thought about meeting him at the Forensic Academy Conference. She thought about the chill she had in her veins the first time she heard him talk. He made a massacre in a garage sound like the most intriguing, fascinating topic ever. The man that she met that day, the man she thought he was, would never be in his car right now, going far, far away from her. And yet when she finally turned around, he was gone. He wasn't there. Sara could have her breakdown. She could collapse to the floor and sob until the sun came up and morning came, then gave way to the afternoon, then the clouds would come and turn the day into night and she'd have to take a shower and get ready for work again. She could do that, and nobody had to know.

Instead, after Nick called and told her about the box they found, and right after that Greg called and told her about the life insurance policy, Sara formed a hunch. And suddenly she knew what she had to do, just like Grissom knew what he had to do. There wasn't a lot of time and she'd have to pull a few strings, but it needed to happen. So she made herself swallow the tears that were forming and then she got to work. If there was anything Sara was good at, it was working.

* * *

This wasn't the way he planned it. Not that he planned it at all, but if he would have planned it, he wouldn't have planned it this way.

Grissom was sitting outside of Heather's house. He wasn't exactly sure how he ended up there. Just 20 minutes ago, he found himself getting up from the table while Sara was unhappily washing dishes. As if he were in a trance, Grissom somehow found his keys, got in his car and drove off in a daze. He wasn't dazed enough to not know where he was going, though, that was for sure. And now he was at his destination, not sure what to do next. Before he could think of his next move, his cell phone rang.

"Grissom."

"Gil, where are you?" Jim asked, sounding somewhat desperate.

"I'm...out," he said, not knowing how to tell one of his closest friends what he really needed to know.

Still, Brass was somehow catching on.

"You're not where I think you are, right?"

Gil was silent.

"Gil, we're waiting on a warrant for her house, and most likely she will be arrested for the murder of her husband before the world wakes up and goes to work." He gave Grissom the short story of the insurance and the wooden box of Death.

"She didn't do it," Grissom said. "I know her, and she didn't do it."

"That's what you think. The evidence, however, suggests otherwise. You're really overstepping your bounds here, Grissom. Do you have any idea what will happen if anyone finds out where you are?"

Grissom was again silent. He knew. But there was something pulling him toward Heather. Something in the universe needed him to be where she was. It was not in his control anymore. He didn't understand--didn't WANT to understand. Whatever it was, it wasn't logical or smart. And right now, he was just going to have to be okay with that.

"Okay, well, if that doesn't bother you...what about Sara?" Brass asked.

"Sara understands," Grissom said, although he was sure she did not. He didn't want to lose Sara. It wasn't his mission to cheat on her or replace her with Heather--it wasn't like that. He needed to find out what Heather knew. The instinct in him that made him go to Sara's house when she was suspended by Ecklie after her fight with Catherine was the same instinct he had to go to Heather's. But when he went to Sara's the feeling was different. It was of love; of understanding and kindness and empathy. With Heather, it was a whole new mixture of feelings. It was lust and curiosity and danger. Just as he knew he was jeopardizing a lot of good things in his life by what he was about to do, he also knew it had to be done.

Jim said, "Look, you have maybe an hour before we get there with the warrant. Clear out before then. Do it, Grissom. She's not worth losing your career. Or Sara."

Grissom hung up. Jim was right, of course, but it was too late. He stepped out of the car and went to meet his fate.


	10. Chapter 10

Gil took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He was hoping that Heather wouldn't be in. Maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe he could just put his brains back in his head and go back to where he belonged. Maybe--

Heather answered the door, looking devastatingly sad and yet her usual determined self at the same time. Grissom wondered how she managed to do that in the face of such tragedy.

"Gil. We keep bumping into each other lately."

"Yes, Heather, we do indeed."

"Please, come in. I was just about to make some tea."

He followed her inside and watched as she gracefully moved into the kitchen and started making tea. Someday he'd have to figure out this fascination with her. Someday, but not now.  
She told him to take a seat; he took one at the kitchen table. His eyes followed her every move, and he felt regret with every step she made. _I haven't done anything to regret yet,_ he thought, _yet_ being the operative word.

When the tea was ready, she sat down next to him and handed him a glass. He didn't drink it.

"Tell me, Gil. What brings you here? Do you have any new information for me?"

"No, I don't. Well, yes, I do. Brass and probably half the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department will be here in, oh, about 40 minutes. They will probably arrest you for the murder of your husband."

This news did not seem to faze Heather in the slightest.

"What evidence do they have to base this arrest on, exactly?"

"I don't know the details. That's not why I'm here."

She regarded him closely, just as she had the last time they were in the same room together, and again it made him uncomfortable. This wasn't right. This wasn't where he should be. There was someone else out there in the world waiting for him to come home. What was he doing? But he did not move or waver or do anything else to prove himself wrong. No, he was here for a reason.

He looked at her, taking her all in. Her long, dark hair, her piercing eyes, her...mouth. The features were all the same as they'd always been. The last time he'd been this close to her was the night they almost shared something they both would come to regret.

Still, after so many years of lusting, wanting, loving Sara, and so many years of wiping his memory of Heather, and with all his education and knowledge and experience, everything that told him he was wrong--he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to know what it felt like to finally cross a line, to finally do something he knew he wasn't supposed to.

But when it was all said and done, when he thought about actually going in and doing it, he realized something--he didn't really want to. This revelation was surprising but also a huge relief. He didn't want to kiss Heather! The very thought of kissing her made his stomach sick with regret.

"You're staring at my lips again, Gil. But I know it's not for the same reason as the last time we were in this position."

He cringed at the word "position."

"No, it's not. That is true."

"So what is it now? Let me guess--you're feeling dangerous. You're feeling like taking a risk. You want to kiss me, yet there's something stopping you. You want to arrest me, but there's something stopping you from doing that, too. What's on your mind, Gil? Because I know it's certainly not Sara Sidle."

"What do you know about Sara?" He asked defensively.

Heather laughed. While Grissom loved Sara's laugh--so throaty and full of love and understanding--Heather's laugh was different. He knew she didn't mean to mock him. She wasn't a cruel woman, at least not in her spare time. But still, he felt her laughter was teasing him, and he didn't like it.

"I know what the rest of your department has always wondered but never had the courage to ask you about. I know the relationship could probably get you in trouble with your superiors. And I know you probably shouldn't be here with me right now if you ever want to go home to her again."

"You're right. About everything."

She nodded, but didn't say anything else. It was not a comfortable silence.

"Heather, did you kill your husband?" Grissom finally asked.

"No, I did not. I did not kill the father of my unborn baby. I had nothing to do with the death of my daughter, either, if that was your next question. I've had a lot of grief in my life, and I did not bring it on myself, let me assure you."

Grissom nodded, trying not to show any emotion.

"And do you realize that's the second time you've wanted to kiss me, and then you accused me of murder instead? That's not a wonderful character trait, Gil, I have to tell you."

Grissom sighed. "I realize that, yes."

Heather took a long look at his face, and then visibly softened. She took a long sip of tea, and then rubbed her aching stomach. Grissom knew something had changed, just like that. There was suddenly less tension in the air and it was much easier to breathe.

"Gil, I'm tired of playing this game. I don't want to be composed and put together and calm. I'm a mess. And I know there's something on your mind that you want to talk about. Why are you here? What do you want from me? I'll tell you what I want--a shoulder to cry on. I'm terrified, to be honest with you. I'm about to be a mother again, and I have no idea what's going to happen. This baby needs a stable mother and I'm afraid I can't provide that. I need someone to listen to me when I need to actually cry. And the way you comforted me last year, with my daughter...I just feel like we can be here for each other. Don't you agree?"

Grissom exhaled. She finally figured it out. She figured it out for him, in fact. What he wanted to do was listen to her. He was so fixated on his lust, on his feelings of confusion, that he lost track of what he really wanted, which was to be her friend. Heather needed someone she could count on, and that's what he wanted to be for her.

So for the next 20 minutes, she told him about her grief; about what it was like to wake up in the morning and know that the two most important people in her life were permanently gone, and yet another important person was on the way. He told her about his love for Sara, and how he never was sure if he was saying or doing the right thing. All he wanted to be was the man Sara always thought he was; the man he felt like when he was with her.

"I need to know one thing, Heather. When Sara and I processed your house the other day, I found a--a drawer. It had video tapes and papers and, well, other assorted things. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes. I do. Let's just say that when I like something, I like it a lot. I've collected your old tapes and papers because I knew I couldn't settle for you. Inside, deep inside our hearts and our heads, you and I share something deep and important. But it was never supposed to be, and I knew that. And you know that, too. Your feelings for Sara are too all-encompassing to let someone else penetrate them, and that's okay. We were never meant to be together, but I wanted a little piece of you anyway. I know how that sounds, and I have no way of making it sound less than what it is."

He touched her hand and smiled. They shared an important look; an important moment, an understanding of what could have been but what was never destined to happen.

"Oh, and don't worry. I got rid of that stuff yesterday. It's in a landfill somewhere now. Nobody will find it tonight."

He nodded gratefully, and they continued their conversation. They talked for so long that of course Grissom didn't notice what time it was. And when the pounding on the door started, he was actually startled.

"Well, they're here," Heather said. "I guess this is it. My lawyer will meet me downtown and get me cleared of any charges, but I'm sure whatever evidence they have will keep me down there for a while. Do you want to hide? You can go out the back door, if you'd like."

"No. No, I'm okay. Whatever happens won't be anything compared to what I'll be going through with Sara later."

Heather nodded. They both got up from the table and walked to the front door, where the banging continued.

"Heather Kessler! Open the door, please! This is the Las Vegas police!"

"God, Jim, you don't have to be so dramatic about it," Heather said, opening the door.

Brass smiled at Heather in spite of everything. He nodded at Gil, who nodded politely back. Jim came in with what must have been a dozen uniforms, closely followed by Warrick, Greg, Catherine and Nick.

"Heather, it's a pleasure to see you again. I'm sorry to tell you that we have a warrant to search your house."

"Go ahead. I have nothing to hide. Nor did I the first time you guys ransacked my house."

Brass directed the uniforms, and then turned his attention to Grissom.

"I thought I told you to clear out of here. Good thing I managed to come alone, what if the under sheriff got curious and came to see things for himself?"

"Lost track of time," Grissom said. He then turned his attention to his team, who were all staring at him in what seemed to be shock and disbelief.

"It's a long story, guys, and it's not what it looks like. And what are you doing here, anyway? It takes 15 people to search a house now?"

"This is the only case we've been on for days, Gil," Catherine said. "And besides, Heather is my friend. I wanted to be here in case she needed me. Not that she does, with you here, anyway. Gil...how do you think Sara feels about this?"

"We'll talk about it later," Grissom said under his breath.

"What will Sara think about what? What is going on here, Gris?" Nick asked. He looked confused. Grissom didn't really blame him. "Why were you here, Gris? We've been looking for you all over tonight. I don't get it...were you waiting for Brass?"

"No, Nick, I was trying to be a friend. I'll explain later."

Before Nick could say anything else, Grissom grabbed Brass and they went into the kitchen to whisper about something. Catherine found Heather and talked to her privately. Greg, Nick and  
Warrick just stood and watched the uniforms, and whispered amongst themselves about how weird all of this was.

It took close to 15 minutes, but one of the uniforms found a rope that could maybe have tied John's hands while he was tortured. He showed it to Brass, who exhaled and shrugged.

"Well, Heather, I guess we have to bring you in now."

"What, for a rope? Jim, she runs a dungeon. She's a dominatrix. She's going to have a rope," Catherine said.

Jim gave Catherine a Look, one that meant she just needed to back off. So she did. There were times when you could talk to Jim Brass, and there were times when you just needed to not talk to Jim Brass.

"It's fine. My lawyer will get me out of this mess," Heather said. "Let's go."

"I doubt that, actually," Brass said. "We have evidence, we have a motive, and you don't have a solid alibi. I don't think it's going to be as easy as you think."

Before everyone thought it couldn't get any more uncomfortable, Sara came bursting through the front door like a woman on a mission. All the uniforms and all her co-workers, plus her boyfriend and Lady Heather, all stared at her in confusion and shock. Grissom shook it off and went to greet her.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" He asked, most unhelpfully.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" She asked coolly.

"Well, hello, Sara. Welcome to my home. Is there something I can do for you? Detective Brass was about to escort me to the police station, where surely I will be arrested and then sentenced for the death of my husband."

"That's why I'm here, actually," Sara said, distracted by all the faces looking back at her. "I think I can prove your innocence."

"Pardon me?" Heather said, now giving Sara her complete attention.

"I had a hunch about something I heard on the news the other day. John was married before you, just a year ago, actually."

"Yes. Isabella is his ex-wife," Heather said. "Did you hear from her?"

"No, I didn't hear from her, but I after I heard about the huge life insurance policy, I thought she might have been setting you up. So I called a few people and did some digging on the internet and I found a few things. First of all she has a very, very angry blog that says a lot of very incriminating things. Second, there are credit card receipts. In the past week, she's bought a gun, several pesticides that contain arsenic, leather gloves, and, uh, a blow torch. She's pretty much an evidence factory, that Isabella. I told Sofia since you weren't available, Jim. She's bringing her in now."

Heather chuckled, and then laughed, and then hugged Sara tightly. Sara was never sure how to act when a suspect hugged her, much less Lady Heather, but she patted Heather on the arm and this seemed to please her.

Forgetting about their audience, Heather asked her, "Why would you...do that for me? Gil left to come over here, he just left you washing the dishes...why would you want to do anything for me?"

This got the attention of everyone in the room, especially the three clueless boys, Greg, Nick and Warrick. They all stared at this conversation like it was a tennis match at Wimbledon.  
Sara knew they were watching, and she didn't care. Not anymore. Too much had happened and she didn't care who knew her secrets anymore.

"Gil was confused. He knew you needed a friend and he mistook that for something else. I get it, I understand. I was hurt at first but I know we have something that will transcend jealousy and lust. I assume the two of you have also come to this conclusion."

Heather nodded. "We have. I needed someone to comfort me and he needed someone to help him understand his feelings. We have a mutual understanding. I'm not trying to take him from you, Sara. I never wanted that."

"I know," Sara said. "I know."

"Wait, Sara, what are you saying?" Nick spoke up, finally able to talk again. "Are you saying that you and Grissom are...are...what are you saying?"

"Yes, Nick, Grissom and I have been together; well, for nearly 2 years now. Ever since your kidnapping. We're sorry we didn't say anything, but we weren't ready. It was private. And now, well, it's definitely not."

Grissom put his arm around her and she buried her face in his neck. So only he noticed the devastating look of heartbreak on Nick's face. _Poor guy,_ he thought. Sara told him later about how Nick asked her out a few days ago. She felt guilty about lying and hurting his feelings. She'd have to take him to lunch one day and explain it all.

Brass returned from the kitchen, cell phone in hand. "Well, Sara's right. Sofia has Isabella in custody. Said she's yelling about how unfair it is that Heather got the life insurance policy and she didn't, how she was married to the man for years and put up with his 'weird ass fetishes' and got nothing to show for it in the end. Boy, she doesn't like you at all, Heather. I guess this means you're free to go. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience we caused you tonight."

"Thank you, Jim, I appreciate it. And it was worth it, I think," she said, looking at Grissom and Sara. They smiled back at her, even though there was sadness and frustration in those smiles. Heather knew they'd talk it out. They'd be okay. And maybe, just maybe, she gained a friend out of the situation.

"Way to go, man," Warrick told Grissom on their way out of the house.

"Grissom? Really?" Greg told Sara. She laughed and told him they'd talk about it later.

Nick just looked at her and shook his head. She frowned as he walked by without saying anything. That was one relationship that would need repairing.

The uniforms and Brass cleared out of the house, too. When the three of them were alone, Heather shook their hand and thanked them. "We'll have to do this again some time," she said.

Then she went upstairs to her room. After she closed her bedroom door, Grissom and Sara could hear the unmistakable sound of a woman crying.

"Let's go home," Sara said. Grissom nodded. He knew he would be in the dog house for a while. There was some major talking to be done, and he knew he'd have to work hard to gain her trust again. But he knew she understood why he did it and why it had to go down the way it did. And that was enough for now.

They walked out of Heather's house, hand in hand, ready to move to the next phase of their lives.


	11. Epilogue

**A/N - Well, this is it, guys. Thank you for being so patient, and I will get to all your comments and feedback soon. For the record, this ending is not exactly what I had in mind, but I ultimately decided that I didn't want Heather to be a villain. I know that will be disappointing to some of you, but I think ultimately Heather is a good person and would not want to cause damage to Grissom and Sara's relationship. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and staying with me through this 2-year journey. It was fun to get out of my comfort zone and write about Heather, it was definitely a rewarding challenge.**

**Thanks again! And rock on.**

**

* * *

**_ONE YEAR LATER_

Sara and Gil waited on Heather's doorstep. Heather was taking longer than usual to answer the door, and with a newborn baby always attached to her somewhere, that was saying a lot.

Grissom peered at Sara's homemade mashed potatoes and vegetarian ravioli. "We might have to eat those right here if she doesn't answer the door soon."

Finally, Heather opened the door with Ava, her daughter, in her arms. Heather looked healthy and happy, which Sara was glad to see. Heather was having a rough go of it for a while there and even checked herself into the hospital a few weeks before she had Ava to get herself together.

"Good to see you two again, please come in. Sorry for the delay, I was making my beef tenderloin and I didn't even hear the doorbell ring."

They came into her house and sniffed longingly at the aroma of the food Heather was making. "It smells incredible, Heather," Sara said. "Even the meat, and you know how I feel about that."

Sara and Gil said hello to Ava and cooed and giggled and made appropriate baby conversation. Gil was amazing with the baby, which surprised Sara at first. The way he held her and had a way about him that made Ava stop crying, well, that did a lot for Sara in more ways than she could imagine. But that topic would have to come up later, as for now, they were just handling one thing at a time.

While they were chatting and eating cheese and crackers for an hors d'oeuvre, Heather suddenly grabbed Sara's hand and whistled loudly, something uncharacteristic for a woman who was usually so eloquent with her movements and words.

"Damn, Sara. That is one hell of a ring. When did this happen?!"

"Last week," Sara said, grinning. "We were working with a decomp and the smell was disgusting, but he just pinched his nostrils and asked me anyway. It was so lovely I had no choice but to say yes."

"She just looked so at home in the middle of this decomp," Grissom said. "I couldn't help it. I love a woman who takes a decomp in stride."

Heather laughed. "Oh, I envy you two. It takes a lot to make something like that work. John and I had to work every single day at our relationship."

"Believe me, I have to work with this guy. Right now I'm trying to get him to put the seat back down when he's done, but you know how that is."

Grissom watched as Sara and Heather bantered back and forth. It was truly fascinating to watch these beautiful, intelligent women share a conversation. After a year of working on things with Sara, working to get her trust, showing her that he was ready to devote everything he was about to make it work with her...it was still a little rocky, but they were ready for the next step. They were ready to spend the rest of their lives together now, and Heather was instrumental in making that happen, in many ways, good and bad.

It had been Sara's idea to visit Heather from time to time to check on her. She wasn't exactly down with Grissom visiting her on his own, even if it was just to give her a shoulder to cry on. But Sara was perfectly fine with visiting her together, bringing her food to make sure she ate, and listening patiently while she outpoured her grief. Sometimes they'd even baby-sit for Ava, which was always a fascinating intellectual experience. But Sara felt like they all got something out of this arrangement; it was definitely beneficial for everyone. And she knew Grissom was grateful that she could be so understanding after all he put her through.

"I paid a visit to Isabella in prison," Heather told them after she'd had a few glasses of wine. "I had a few things to say to her. She didn't really appreciate them, you know."

Sara chuckled and said, "No, I guess she probably wouldn't."

"I wanted to really talk to her. I wanted to know why she hated John so much. I know his fetishes were hard on her. I know it couldn't have been easy to love a man like that. But I'm fascinated by her reasoning for killing him."

"Heather, we can't always understand anyone's reasons for doing anything," Grissom said. "I've been trying for 20 years to do it and I can't. There are some mysteries that weren't meant to be solved."

Heather nodded sadly, and Sara again felt empathy for this mysterious woman before her. She watched as Grissom talked to her about motives and DNA and the fabric of every person's being. She thought about how much she loved this man in front of her. Sure, he loved bugs a little too much and, sure, he did have crushes on dominatrixes from time to time. But he was caring and kind and empathetic and his eyes were the deepest blue she'd ever known, and this was all she wanted for the rest of her life.

It didn't have to be easy, it just had to be like this.


End file.
